


om bord

by netflixandnaps



Series: ferie [1]
Category: SKAM (Norway), SKAM (TV) RPF
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Skam Season 3, Skam Season 4, skam au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-10-05 14:36:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17326853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/netflixandnaps/pseuds/netflixandnaps
Summary: The sand was soft and fine between his toes as Isak wiggled his buried feetundernesth the sandcastle Even had built over his legs while he had slept, his pale skin slowly browning under the warm, Moroccan sun. The water lapping at the shore was clear, exposing the colorful fish and red, rocky coral that made the underwater world exquisite and foreign. It was calm and quite, opposed to the beach a mile or so to the left, where tourists had lay out their cheaply boughten Moroccan towels and let themselves burn to a red as bright as their towels. Neither Isak or Even had wanted to spend their getaway crowded by people shoving one another over for the best spot on the beach.They had hiked for about half an hour, the midday sun beating down on them, making their few belongings they had brought along – two towels they had smuggled from the hotel, a quilt Isak had boughten for Eskild, but soon realized he wanted it more and that Eskild would never miss it if he never got it, and enough sunscreen to coat any army – much heavier then they should have felt.But it was all worth it when they found the small cove. It was quiet and peaceful with no tourists or locals in sight, and the red, sandstone arches that shadowed the cove gave the boys more than enough privacy. So they laid their quilt down and almost immediately, Isak fell asleep.The two Norwegian men spent their afternoon suntanning on the quilt, messing around in the small, but aggressive, waves, and taking pictures of the scenery. The salty air made both their hair more wavy, and it even added more highlights to Isak’s beachy waves. And Even couldn’t get enough of his boyfriend.Every time Isak did anything, something as simple as turning around while standing in the waves, smiling and attempting to splash him, Even took a picture. It was a small, sweet gesture, but it only made Isak more in love with him. Every picture, every capture of a moment they had spent together, every ounce of love made Isak want more and more.





	1. prologen

The airport was crowded and busy as the group found their way to their gate. Going through security and customs has been a disaster, and they were lucky just to get to their gate on time. Yelling at the attendant as she began to make the final calls, they waved their hands and caught her attention, making it just on time. She laughed as she scanned each ticket, telling them to enjoy the flight.  
One by one, they file their way to their seats, taking the several rows they had purchased, storing their luggage in the overhead compartments. As they settle down into their seats, they all smile at one another and cheer.  
They're finally on their way to Morocco.


	2. bronse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The sand was soft and fine between his toes as Isak wiggled his buried feetundernesth the sandcastle Even had built over his legs while he had slept, his pale skin slowly browning under the warm, Moroccan sun. The water lapping at the shore was clear, exposing the colorful fish and red, rocky coral that made the underwater world exquisite and foreign. It was calm and quite, opposed to the beach a mile or so to the left, where tourists had lay out their cheaply boughten Moroccan towels and let themselves burn to a red as bright as their towels. Neither Isak or Even had wanted to spend their getaway crowded by people shoving one another over for the best spot on the beach.  
> They had hiked for about half an hour, the midday sun beating down on them, making their few belongings they had brought along – two towels they had smuggled from the hotel, a quilt Isak had boughten for Eskild, but soon realized he wanted it more and that Eskild would never miss it if he never got it, and enough sunscreen to coat any army – much heavier then they should have felt.  
> But it was all worth it when they found the small cove. It was quiet and peaceful with no tourists or locals in sight, and the red, sandstone arches that shadowed the cove gave the boys more than enough privacy. So they laid their quilt down and almost immediately, Isak fell asleep.  
> The two Norwegian men spent their afternoon suntanning on the quilt, messing around in the small, but aggressive, waves, and taking pictures of the scenery. The salty air made both their hair more wavy, and it even added more highlights to Isak’s beachy waves. And Even couldn’t get enough of his boyfriend.  
> Every time Isak did anything, something as simple as turning around while standing in the waves, smiling and attempting to splash him, Even took a picture. It was a small, sweet gesture, but it only made Isak more in love with him. Every picture, every capture of a moment they had spent together, every ounce of love made Isak want more and more.

“Even!” Isak yells from the bathroom. “What time is it?”  
Even smiles and opens his phone. He knows that Isak is worried about being late to meet Sana and Yousef at the restaurant down the street, so he calls back, “8:15.”  
“What!” Isak screams, peeking his head out of the bathroom. His chest is bare but tanner and his messy hair looks as if you could pull sand from each and every strand. “But Sana said to meet them there at 8:00!”  
Even laughs, shaking his head. He tosses Isak his phone. “Then you missed the text from Sana.”  
“What?”  
He opens the phone and immediately sees the text from his best friend.  
Sana: can’t make it :(( we went inland and got stuck at this parade. maybe tomorrow?  
“They’re stuck at this parade. Yousef sent me a picture, and it looks fun. Do you want to go?”  
“No,” Isak sighs, placing his phone on the bathroom counter, stepping back into the bathroom.  
He examines himself in the mirror, turning his face from cheek to cheek. He already looks a soft bronze, his pale skin disappearing slowly with each minute he spends under the Moroccan sun. He looks more sharp, more defined, then he usually does, and he smiles to himself. When they first arrived, the crisp, white towels almost matches his skin tone, but the one around his waist pops out vividly, his tan skin a polar opposite.   
Isak touches his cheek softly, running his fingers down his jawline, swiping them over his soft lips, peeling a small piece of flaking skin off. He looks fine and fit, but also a little less Norwegian. He can’t tell if he likes it or not. He takes another step closer to the mirror and touches it gently as if to wipe away the effect or filter that alters his appearance so drastically. But nothing changes, and he is still the same bronze boy he was before.   
“Isak?”  
“Yeah?”  
“What are you doing? Do you want to go to dinner still?”  
“No,” he sighs, turning his head sideways once more.   
“Isak?”  
“Yeah?”   
“What are you doing?”  
“Nothing.”   
He hears a shift and a creak in the floor as Even walks over, poking his head into the bathroom. Immediately, his eyes widen as he fully steps into the bathroom.  
“You’ve gotten so tan!”  
Isak flushes and turns back to the mirror. He smiles a bit, but then frowns, turning in small movements to examine himself fully. Isak watches through the reflective glass as Even walks up behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist. His bare chest touches Isak’s naked back, and he shudders at his touch.  
“I’m not sure if I like it…” Isak confesses, turning his head another inch to the left.  
“Why?” Even asks breathlessly, placing a small kiss on his jawline before meeting Isak’s eyes in the mirror.  
“Because I don’t look like me, exactly.” He fidgets a bit, trying to escape Even’s grasp, but the taller boy doesn’t let go; he tightens his grip.  
“What do you mean?” he asks gently, softly rubbing his nose against Isak’s neck before planting another small kiss.   
“I mean, I don’t look the same.”  
“Well of course not!” Even laughed. “That’s what happens when you tan.”  
“It’s just all so new to me.”  
Even stops smiling. “What’s new…”  
“I’ve never looked this… dark. I mean, this is all just so new, so different. Being tan, being in Morocco, being with you...”  
Even stays silent, but turns Isak around by his hips, removing them from the edge of the towel to the soft smoothness of Isak’s face. He kisses him gently, then kisses his forehead. He returns his eyes to Isak’s, and whispers softly, “Is this okay?”  
Isak nods, and responds gently, “Always.”  
He kisses him again, placing his hands at the brim of Even’s jeans, the cool denim greeting his warm hands. He pushes him back, Isak’s upper thigh meeting the counter as Even kisses him harder, slipping his tongue past Isak’s lips hungrily. Peeling off Even’s jeans, and then his undergarments, the two boys make their way to the bedroom, kissing one another like it’ll be the last time. Kiss after kiss, cloth after cloth, they found the small bed in the room.   
Carefully, Even lays Isak on the bed, kissing him from the waist up, slowly migrating his lips. When he reaches his neck, he pauses and massages his neck with his mouth and his tongue, causing Isak to stretch his neck back and sigh, intertwining his legs with Even’s. A breath escapes his lips, and it comes out as if he has been deprived of oxygen.   
Once again, their mouths meet, and the kiss is long and passionate, a fire burning in each of their stomachs that only makes them want more. If it could even be possible, the kiss deepens, and Isak can feel not only himself but also Even, losing control.  
But he doesn’t stop him as his boyfriend relocates his mouth to below his waist. He only encourages him, releasing a soft and exasperated moan, his fingernails sinking into the soft mattress beneath him.   
“Holy shit,” he says breathlessly, closing his eyes and arching his back. He inhales heavily and exhales a short, pleased laugh.   
Even moves up his body once more, licking Isak’s chest seductively before returning to his lips once more, smiling against them. He kisses him again, slowly inching from his lips to his neck each time. Isak fingertips dig into his back as he feels the small bruise Evan is creating appear on his neck, the boy’s arms secured around his waist.   
He licks the wound before kissing his boyfriend once more, rolling off of him onto his side, facing Isak as he places a hand on his cheek and rubs it gently. They both smile at one another, chests rising and falling to the pounding of their hearts. Isak licks his lips, still tasting Even.  
“I never want to leave,” Even sighs, running a hand down Isak’s side.  
“Nothing gold can stay…” Isak whispers softly.  
“Then it’s a good thing you’re bronze,” he smiles. “Because then you’ll stay. Maybe forever.”  
“In a parallel universe, I’m probably gold from the sun.”  
“Then I’m glad to be in this universe.”  
“I love you,” he whispers, staring right into Even’s big, beautiful, blue eyes.   
He smiles, leaning toward Isak to kiss him slowly, pulling away before any spark could ignite. “I love you more…”  
“Not possible,” Isak teases, laughing as he runs a single fingertip over Even’s lips.  
“Want to bet?” he smirks, inching slowly back towards Isak/  
“I’m willing to consider it…”  
“Oh yeah?”  
“Well, I’ll consider it if that’s what I’ve been missing out on…” he says flirtatiously, winking at Even.  
And without missing a beat, Even is back on top of him, kissing him harder than he ever has.


	3. bestevenner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Although they’ve only spent one day in Morocco, Isak feels as if he could live there forever, waking up every morning with the sun shining through his window, the salty air lingering in the room while even lay in bed next to him, his skin golden in the morning light. Sana feels the same way; watching the sun rise as she finished her fajr, watching the pink sky illuminate the white covers where Yousef still slept, was indescribably beautiful.  
> While the rest of their friends wanted to add some color to their pale skin, Isak and Sana wanted to spend time together, needing to be apart from their friends. They agreed on the street market with colorful art, beautiful woven goods, and exotic spices, concluding that they could buy trinkets of all sorts to bring home with them.

“Classy,” Sana says with a smirk, licking her finger and pretending to scrub off the hickey on Isak’s neck. “We’ve only been here for one night you know…”  
“Says you,” Isak retorts, bumping Sana’s hip with his. “The only reason I can’t see yours is because you’ve got your hijab on!”  
“Hard to have sex when I’m awake at five in the morning praying!”  
“What are you talking about? That’s the biggest turn on ever!”  
“Whatever you say…” she smiles, smoothing over her headscarf.  
“I’m serious, Sana.”  
“Uh-huh. Just control yourself, hoe.”  
“You’re such a bitch Sana!”  
“I know.”  
Side by side, they walk amongst the stalls, stopping every so often to pick up a Moroccan good, the two Norwegians blending in with the tourist-filled crowds.  
Eventually, they look at all they’ve collected; a new blanket for Eskild, seeing that Isak and Even had already used that one, some spices for Sana’s mom, different styles of beaded necklaces for Even’s grandmother, who had been overwhelmed to hear that the boys were going to Morocco – Nana Ravn, who had visited Morocco in her early twenties with the man she would end up marrying, and a basket for Isak’s mom.  
Every few seconds they stopped to look at different vendors, exploring the exotic goods and foods ranging from bastilla, a savory pie with meat, spices, pastry, and almonds, mechoui, araar wood-roasted lamb, and couscous.  
“Not a fan of sheep head, Isak?” Sana laughs, making fun of her friend, his nose scrunched in disgust.  
“I don’t like how it’s looking at me…”  
They walk in silence for a minute, weaving between the merchants and shoppers from different locations, ranging from various neighborhoods near the street fair to countries thousands of miles away, before Isak spots something.  
He holds up a white headscarf with colorful beads. His smile is wide and bright as he turns the scarf for her, showing every inch of the beautiful work. “What do you think?”  
Sana smiles, crossing her arms and shaking her head. “I think I’d look ridiculous!”  
“Why?” he asks, his smile dropping a little bit.  
“Because!”  
“I need a reason, Sana.”  
“I’d look like a tourist!”  
“You are a tourist…”  
Sighing, head dropped, she asks, “How much?” knowing all too well that she couldn’t say no to him?  
“I’m buying it for you, Sana.”  
“Isak…”  
“I want to buy something nice for my best bud,” he grins, throwing a wink her way.  
While Isak negotiates a price with an elderly merchant, Sana smiles to herself, glad to have a friend as caring and compassionate as Isak. She runs her hands over the scarves, admiring them, although she’d never admit to liking them. But, of course, he catches her tracing the jewels on the hijabs with her fingertips, and he pats himself on the back.  
Some may say that he and Sana are a weird pairing, and that shouldn’t she hate him because he’s gay? But he knows that Sana loves him, and he loves her. They may have their differences, but Isak couldn’t imagine not knowing and loving her, spending hours watching basketball together and singing to One Direction at the top of their lungs while driving around Oslo, although neither of them would ever admit to liking such a cheesy boy band. And even though Sana has Eva, Vilde, Chris, and Noora, Isak knows he’s in the running for Sana's favorite person.  
He gives the man several dirham and a smile before taking Sana’s hand in his, the headscarf wrapped and placed in a bag.  
“I’m glad you like it,” he says, avoiding her eyes.  
“Thank you for buying it, but I can’t believe you wasted money on that scarf…” she scoffs, pretending not to adore the hijab.  
“Whatever you say, Sana,” he sighs, glancing at her smile that covered her entire face.  
That night, once they had returned to hotel, Sana takes the scarf out of the bag. Locking the bathroom door behind her, she unravels her scarf and puts on the one Isak had bought for her. It is truly exquisite, and she knows that she would have to repay him in some way or another for the scarf; it is too beautiful and expensive to go without a thank-you present.  
She glances in the mirror, and admires herself in the reflective glass; the jewels dangle above her forehead, refracting rainbows across her eyes when they catch the light. The thin, delicate, white material feels cool against her skin, and it makes her dark eyes look bright.  
Emerging from the room, she shyly enters the bedroom, where Yousef is lounging across the bed, his bare chest tanner than it had been just hours before.  
His eyes widen at the sight of Sana, his jaw touching his chest.  
“Wow.”  
“What?” Sana says defensively, her cheeks flushed.  
“You look beautiful…”  
“No, I don’t!”  
“You do…” he says, smiling at her, slipping off the bed top slowly make his way across the room to her. “Stephen Curry would say you look like a queen”  
“And he’d just be being polite, Yousef.”  
“I think he’d be being honest,” he smirks, snaking an arm around her waist. “So what do you say, my queen?”  
Her heartbeat quickens, but she’d never let him notice that. She tries to push away, but his grip tightens.  
“Yousef…” she warns, but her warning breezes by as his soft lips capture hers.  
It’s gentle but warm, and Sana feels her whole body lighten up, the energy buzzing through her veins. Arms wrapped around his neck, she deepens the kiss, slipping her tongue into his mouth, allowing herself to live like royalty.


	4. rubinrød

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Isak and Sana spend their afternoon exploring the beautiful markets of Morocco, Noora and William waded from the hot sand into the cool ocean, never five inches from one another. Noora couldn't count on one hand the number of times William left her side, but she didn’t mind; it only gave her more opportunity to jump on his back unannounced and watch in amusement as he crumbled into the salty water. But he never stayed under for long; he always managed to emerge from the ocean and pick her up and carry her back onto the sand, lay her down on their blanket, and kiss her smoothly. Again, she didn’t mind; spending the afternoon tricking and kissing William was an afternoon well spent.

Noora is standing in front of the mirror, applying her classic ruby red lipstick while William finishes in the bathroom, the running water sound halting as William steps out of the water.   
“Wilhelm!” she yells, smiling as she does so. “Hurry up! Eva and Chris can only wait for so long.”  
He emerges, a white towel wrapped loosely on his low hips, exposing all of his gorgeous carved body, water dripping from his long, shaggy hair onto his smirking face.  
“You would think,” he grins, one eyebrow arched, “that you would’ve figured out my name by now.”  
Noora scoffs, rolling her eyes, but a smile is still upon her face. “I have no idea what you could be hinting out.”  
“Oh Noora Amalie Sætre,” he chuckles. “What I put up with…” He walks closer, a haunting but sexy smile upon his lips  
“Get dressed Wilhelm,” Noora chuckles, throwing a sock at him as he inched closer cornering her.  
“I’m serious Wilhelm; you need to get ready!”  
But he only gets closer, and as he does, Noora only becomes more and more aware of his body, and the fact that when he finally reaches her, the only thing separating them is a flimsy towel.  
William’s eyes meet hers, pierce hers, and his lips centimeters from hers.   
A breathy sigh escapes Noora as she gives William a small smile, tucking hid still-wet hair behind his ear. She traces his jawline with her finger and pulls his chin closer to her.  
“What’s my name?” he whispers, eyes still in hers.  
“Wilhelm,” Noora whispers back, still not done teasing him.  
Sharply, he grabs her waist, closing the remaining gap between them, and presses her into the wall. He kisses her gently, but them more aggressively, making Noora feel helpless as William deepened the kiss only to pull away a minute later, this time, the smirk upon his face.  
“What’s my name?” he whispers again.   
“William,” she answers, biting her lip.  
He kisses her again but doesn’t pull away this time. Instead, he guides her away from the wall, pulling her tank top over her head with his free hand as he steps backward, left foot after right, towards the desk with the chair.  
William sits down in the chair first, then pulls Noora onto his lap.   
“I think your lipstick got messed up,” he laughs wiping a ruby red smudge from underneath her lips.  
“It’s your fault,” she taunts, leaning down and gently pulling at his lip with her teeth.  
He brushes a strand of blonde hair from her eyes. “You are trouble, Noora. Beautiful, but trouble.”  
It is Noora who instigates this kiss, the one that makes her feel like her skin is on fire as William’s soft hands navigate her back, running his fingertips down her spine as if to fight the fire.   
Someone’s phone begins to scream, and Noora physically jumps, disconnecting her legs from William's hips.  
While he is laughing at her, William pushes the chair back with his feet and answers the phone. “Yo Chris. What’s up, bro?”  
Noora sighs, pulling the tank top back over her head and finds her way back to the vanity. She wipes away the first layer of lipstick which is now smeared across her mouth. Carefully, Noora traces her lips with the ruby red tube, puckers, smacks, and smiles at her reflection.  
“Okay. We’ll be there. No, yeah bro; we’re ready. We’ve been waiting for you. Okay, bye.”  
William hangs up, and Noora watches through the mirror as he readjusts the towel which seems to have slipped while they were making out. He catches her eye in the mirror and grins. As soon as he does, she looks away, blushing furiously.  
He walks up behind her and kisses her neck, opening a drawer and taking a shirt.  
“Let’s resume when we get back.”  
Noora rolls her eyes and shoves him, but if she’s honest, she wouldn’t mind resuming where they hit pause.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhhh i'm so sorry i haven't updated in, like, seven thousand years :(( i'm on break right now, so i'll try to update more :))


End file.
